My nose wrinkles as I wake up, cool breeze causing goose flesh to erupt on my body. I blink my eyes open to glance at my wife, who is snoring contentedly and wrapped up in the covers of our bed. I sit up and yank as hard as I can. She comes rolling with the blankets, landing on me in a tangle of limbs and tail. I make myself warm and comfortable as she blinks herself awake, tail swishing underneath the sheets.

As per usual, she doesn’t give a shit and just moves to lay on top of me. I make a disgruntled noise, and she just kisses my cheek. I roll my eyes, but open my arms for her anyhow. She smiles and tucks herself against my neck. We stay like this for a little while, until we really wake up. We kiss a little, and she gets up to make me breakfast in bed. I read for another half an hour before she comes in with a tray bearing a slice of peach cobbler she must’ve made with some of the last peaches of the season.

I eat, and she talks to my belly. I roll my eyes at her babbling, but it’s nice to know she wants to stick around. She’s a Tiefling- born of a brief encounter between an elven noblewoman and Asmodeus. Her mother, unable to bear the same of birthing such a creature, abandoned and hid her. I was worried about how she would take to motherhood, but she seems more worried about how I will take to it.

I’m aware of the prejudice and hate she receives for simple existing, but to bring a child into the world that will be hated by humans and elves alike. I’ve seen how she’s treated, the whispers, the slurs, how she’s tried to buy me a drink or a nice bottle of wine and been denied service. I’ve seen how she’s been cornered and had to fight her way out, or how enforcers from the Flaming Fist insist on stop-and-frisks.

It’s better now than it was when she was growing up- marginally- but it’s still hard. We have a nice townhouse, she works for the Flaming Fist- trying to do good in the community and prove that Tieflings aren’t inherently bad. She makes enough money that I can be off my feet in preparation for the baby, but I work at a clinic down the road. I continue with me breakfast as she murmurs to our baby, who she has lovingly dubbed Fenor, which means precious in Elvish.